Anthropologists tell us that mankind from his very earliest days always filled his caves with pets of all sizes, types and descriptions. And it is no different today. For example, one of the sweetest young ladies I know and her husband each keep a large snake as a pet.

Yesterday I was at someone’s home where this old sick dog decided I was someone who would appreciate it if she would sit in my lap and lick my face with total abandon. She was wrong, but what could I do, I was a guest.

All my children and grandchildren have pets ranging from cats, rabbits and turtles to birds, big yellow dogs and a couple of weeks ago one of my daughters bought her three children a pair of pot belly pigs that run oinking and snorting through the house like so many tiny pork chops gone berserk.

Why would anybody do that to themselves? Couldn’t the kids be satisfied with some quiet little computer games? Pray tell me what is less charming than a couple of pigs?

“Oh daddy, but they’re just soooo cute,” said my oldest child as she mixed milk and bread that was consumed noisily in just a few seconds by Arnold and Lucy (that’s what the kids named the pigs).

There is this lady who I talk with about business just about every day. Unfortunately her fox terrier resents her mistress speaking on the phone. Each time we talk the dog lets us know of her unhappiness via ear splitting and incessant barking that forces us to repeat ourselves again and again.

The folks who walk their dogs daily and pick up their poop off their neighbors’ lawn are a wonder to me. Why do they do it? And what about my friend who was out walking her old dog recently. Someone who objected to the fact that she did not have the dog on a leash kicked the poor animal and broke its leg. Of course, the nutty neighbor was arrested; the poor old dog died a few days later; and now those neighbors are involved in a big court case.

All of this brings to mind my mother-in-law and my wife’s old black and white dog Kim. Susan and I were just starting to hang out together nearly a half century ago when my intended returned from a visit to her brother’s home in Huntsville, Alabama with a puppy. My mother-in-law prided herself on her beautiful well-kept home and her highly polished floors that were so clean you could eat off them in complete confidence that no plate in any restaurant was cleaner. The little puppy’s crying over having to spend the first couple of nights in the garage led to the only screaming argument that ever occurred between my totally mild-manner father-in-law and his daughter. It ended with a slap. Later, I recall, that Kim’s daily attacks on the mailman became a major cause for concern.

Of course, it was understood that as soon as we were married and my wife moved out the dog had to go. A good home in the country was found and poor Kim was dropped off just a couple of days after the wedding.

It was either two or three days later that my in-laws drove back out into the country and brought Kim back home. They missed him. After that he assumed a place of honor in their home and never spent another night outside. When they went to church or the grocery store Kim always accompanied them. He would sit up in the center of the back seat of their gigantic Ford Crown Victoria. When we lived in Beaumont he would ride in that position all the way from Baton Rouge. Kim also made several trips with them back to his hometown of Huntsville whenever they visited with their son and his family.

When he finally died after we had been married for about 15 years I was called in to bury Kim in a place of honor under a Magnolia tree in my in-laws’ backyard. I had to plant a beautiful purple dawn camellia over his grave that they bought to mark the spot.

What was that all about? Anyway, what put me in mind of all this is that my daughter got my wife a dog for Christmas. His name is Peanut.

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